


I Met a Monster in the Woods Today

by YourDoseOfApple



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Angst, Beast Wirt, Ford stumbles into another gosh darn cryptid, Human Disaster Stanford Pines, Post-Over the Garden Wall, Pre-Gravity Falls, no beta we die like men, this one's nice tho I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourDoseOfApple/pseuds/YourDoseOfApple
Summary: I met a monster in the woods today.His eyes as cold as the autumn breeze,And just as dulled as a stone in a stream.His horns, that of the dark woods surrounding us,Dripping black ichor from his antlers like sap.His smile, hollow as the husks of logs in the clearing,Left to burn within the fiery lantern within his hold.And yet,All I saw was a child looking back at me.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 219





	I Met a Monster in the Woods Today

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so... this is actually my first ever fic posted here? I had this idea over the summer and finally decided to yeet this sucker onto my AO3 account for the first time. I hope y'all like it. So... yeah! Hope y'all enjoy it! :)

_I met a monster in the woods today._

_His eyes as cold as the autumn breeze,_

_And just as dulled as a stone in a stream._

_His horns, that of the dark woods surrounding us,_

_Dripping black ichor from his antlers like sap._

_His smile, hollow as the husks of logs in the clearing,_

_Left to burn within the fiery lantern within his hold._

_And yet,_

_All I saw was a child looking back at me._

* * *

Ford cursed whatever deity or spirit was staring down at him for the umpteenth time that day. His glasses keep fogging up from the mixture of humidity and cold weather around him, he had stepped in a number of puddles and his socks were successfully drenched to the thread, it had begun to rain at one point (thus the wet socks) and now his whole person was sopping wet, and the cherry on top - that was this disaster of a day out of the shack - was he was completely and utterly lost. Honestly, he saw no other way to spend his Thursday.

His foot caught on a root loose from the soil and he swung his arms wildly in an attempt to gain his center of balance, and yet gravity had a larger hold on him than he thought. And, as if by fate, it seemed that right before the root, was that of a slope that led down further and further into a forest, one could even argue that it was going downhill just like his luck! With the grace of a newly born foal, Ford went stumbling down the incline and into the awaiting forest below. He came to a sliding halt near the bottom, thanking whatever deity and/or spirit that _was_ listening to his pleas that he hadn’t literally eaten the dirt.

Huffing, and accepting that this was simply bound to be a purely cursed day, Ford got up to his elbows. Unfortunately, before he could fully get to his feet, it appeared his brain had others priorities in mind. That being to find who was the apparent owner of the pair of black leather boots posed before his gaze.

Slowly, Ford’s gaze lingered upwards, finding a pair of dirty grey trousers. Above that was an old WW2 nurse cape that appeared worse for wear, what with the dark branches and orange leaves hugging the fabric. And as Ford’s eyes raised, he found himself locked with a set of inhuman orbs staring right back. A swirling pool of colors that stared right into his soul, with black stains on his cheeks like dried tears. Oddly enough there was a red tipped hat on his head that reminded him of the gnomes he’d met, but that wasn’t what grabbed his attention and interest, it was the long twisting branches that came from his head like antlers, similar black ichor leaking from the cracks in the bark.

Apparently seeing Ford’s utter bafflement, the monster - which Ford had realized couldn’t have been older than a 14 year-old boy - tilted his head to the side, the leaves that were sticking out of the branches rustling gently. Before Ford was ready, a young voice greeted him, “Hello sir.”

Ford, finally realizing that he was _still_ on the ground, scrambled to his feet. Once up, he was surprised to find that the young boy barely even reached his chin. Ford nervously dusted his pants off as he struggled to find his words. “I- er- greetings.” 

It appeared that his poor attempt at a hello made the young boy give a tilted smile, perhaps finding some amusement in the way Ford greeted him. Though the tilt to his lips seemed to lack proper expression, like it was just a mimic of a true emotion. And yet the smile stayed, as if to give the boy some semblance of normality. Finally, after what felt like a decade of wind rustling the leaves - both the boy’s and the forest’s - the young monster moved.

Moved may have been too kind a word to describe it, because there was no crunch of leaves or snapping of twigs as the boy turned to stalk away. Instead, the boy seemed to hover, although he still moved his legs like he was walking. Ford mentally wondered if it was in an attempt to appear human, similar to his smile. And yet these thoughts were driven away when Ford watched the boy look back at him, one arm now free from beneath his cloak and holding what appeared to be a rusted lantern with a bright flame inside. 

“Sir?” The boy asked in that eerily young voice of his.

Barely snapping out of his thoughts, Ford managed to gather his wits just in time to trot up to keep pace with the young monster. He didn’t bother to hide his interest in the young boy as he actively stared at the seeping horns and shining lights for eyes. And yet, he couldn’t help from pondering on the other topic of concern in his mind. 

“Where are you taking me?” Ford asked slowly, still unsure of his thoughts on the boy.

Humming, the boy did not answer at first, his focus instead on the path he was apparently leading Ford on. For a moment, Ford swore that he watched the boy’s gaze flicker down to the lantern in his grasp, but it disappeared soon after as he immediately looked back at the path. After what seemed to be another awkwardly long time of silence, Ford assumed the boy would not answer, but was proven otherwise as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

“You are lost.” The boy stated matter-of-factly and Ford contemplated the answer… as it wasn’t exactly the answer he was searching for. It wasn’t even a question. It was a statement, a fact. Before Ford could ask as to why that was important, the monster simply followed it up with, “I will lead you home.”

Now, had it been anyone else, they would most likely have read deeper into the words and thought that home was in fact a metaphor for their impending death. Yet, Ford, a genius in his own right and one of the smartest of his time, appeared to lack the one thing these people would have: common sense. Instead of panicking, his mind ran rampant with theories and ideas of all sorts.

“What are you?” Ford couldn’t help but finally blurt.

Finally, the boy stopped, although it was less than a second, as if contemplating his answer. He started back forward without having Ford stop beside him. Once again, Ford thought the boy wouldn’t answer, but was proven otherwise as the boy answered with an eerie lilt to his voice, “I am the Beast.” 

“The Beast?” Ford asked the young boy. His inner researcher told him to be cautious around this boy (who apparently dubbed himself the Beast), yet his instincts didn’t see the child as such. He saw him as just that. A child.

And yet the boy nodded in confirmation, “A monster.” He clarified, as if offering a synonym for the name would help to describe himself. He did not stop as he instead went on to say, “I am the monster of these woods, and thus have been dubbed the Beast.”

“You don’t _look_ like a monster.” Ford said without thinking, still staring at the child. He watched as the boy slowed, face skewing for a moment as if taking Ford’s opinion into account. When the Beast made no move to respond, Ford moved to continue, perhaps to inquire the horns and eyes, but was stopped when seeing the trees change. 

The trees' eerie black crooked branches cleared into a more light and straightened shape. The orange and red leaves turned green with life, and grass began to spread underfoot. Ford had thought it to be night, but was surprised to see light easily slither through the cracks in the foliage above, as it had somehow been blotted out in the area he had previously been exploring. 

His gaze lowered and he blinked in surprise when seeing that his shack was right before him. He openly gaped at the sight of his home and wondered if he had simply been wandering in circles the whole day. The wildlife - which had apparently been nonexistent when with the Beast - suddenly came back to life, twittering and singing with the day coming to an end.

“You lead me home.” Ford spoke in awe, not quite realizing how near impossible that should have been with how lost he had been in the woods. A smile snuck its way onto his lips as he couldn’t help from stopping a bewildered chuckle from escaping. “Thank you.”

When hearing no reply, he turned to repeat himself, perhaps thinking that if he looked the boy in the eye that it may elicit some reaction in him. And yet as the words came to his tongue to be repeated, they froze before escaping his lips. His eyes widened in confusion.

Ford was met with nothing but a cold breeze.

* * *

Of course, out of habit and instinct at this point, Ford wrote about the young boy he had met in the woods. He had titled the page as “ **The Beast** ” and wrote all that he could, only realizing, not even a quarter down the page, when getting his thoughts down on paper that he knew next to nothing about the young monster he met. He was left to his own theories and ponderings.

And this was, of course, what led him to getting lost in the woods again the very next day. Unlike the day prior; however, he was intentionally attempting to get lost. Which of course was a problem, as it seemed that when one is intentionally trying to become lost, they, in fact, recognize nearly every obvious feature around them that tells them where they are.

It was only when he contemplated if he had accidentally walked into Washington that he decided he was satisfyingly lost. Which, for any other human, might be contemplated as a sign of one losing their sanity, but for Ford it was a sign of success. But that success was beginning to dwindle as it appeared that no one was coming to his rescue. The hour of wandering and calling for “The Beast” led to nothing but echoes of his voice throughout the forest.

Ford finally came to a stop after about two hours of wandering around and finding nothing. He sat on a stump that he managed to stumble upon and ran a hand through his hair as he contemplated calling it a night and just figuring out his way to the nearest town. He was about to get up and do such when a set of black polished boots peeked into his view. The leaves didn’t even _crunch_.

Snapping his head up, Ford felt a large jolly grin take over his features as he managed to find none other than the Beast himself before him. The monster, unlike last time, was frowning down at him. The Beast looked torn over something as he stared down at him with a frown that held too much knowledge for someone his age to possess. 

“Salutations!” Ford greeted jovially, standing to his feet and dusting himself off. He squinted at the sky, realizing that in the time he had been traversing the woods, it had grown eerily darker. He looked back down at the Beast, who was still staring at him with a cryptic expression.

“You’re lost.” The Beast spoke in a tone that suggested he was explaining something to a child. Ford stared down at him, not quite knowing what to say to such a blunt statement.

“...Yes?” Ford felt like he was being interrogated despite having come out here for the sole purpose of interrogating the Beast. 

“It’s dangerous to be lost within these woods.” The Beast was staring at Ford, analyzing something within the elder man. Finally, he shook his head with a sigh that seemed so very tired. “Come,” he turned, lantern clutched tight in his hand as he began walking, still the sound of crunching leaves did not greet Ford’s ears, “I will guide you home.”

“Now hold on,” Ford quickly reached into his coat and pulled out lucky journal number 2. Luckily, the Beast stopped just long enough to give Ford a moment to gather himself. Ford stepped forward, already opening the page to the single area marked as **The Beast.** He pushed his glasses further up his nose. “If I may, I was hoping to ask you some questions…” 

The boy merely stared back at Ford with those eyes full of a million colors. He blinked once. Twice. A third time. Then shook his head with a drawn sigh. “You are certainly the strangest person I have met stumbling upon my woods.” 

In those few seconds that passed, where the Beast was staring at Ford with a look of pure curiousness, he swore he saw something akin to pain within those eyes. Like the young boy was looking at a long lost memory. It was gone before Ford could read anymore into it. 

Turning around again, the Beast began to depart. “Come, I suppose I can allow you to ask me questions along the way to finding your home again.” Upon hearing this, Ford stumbled forward, fumbling with his pen and journal. 

“I have met so many creatures within Gravity Falls, but you are by far the most human among them.” _I take insult to that Sixer_ , Ford definitely thought that was what Bill might tell him. He, unfortunately, did not catch the cautious look from the Beast, as if sensing his thoughts. “I must ask, are you a fae? A spirit of some kind?”

The Beast stared at Ford for a long time, staring deep into the man’s soul it seemed. He turned his attention to his path as he answered, “I suppose I am what the mortals refer to as a guide.” 

Ford’s pen stopped short from writing, “A… guide?” The Beast nodded, but did not expand upon his answer, so Ford simply wrote down the answer while noting to possibly theorize on other meanings at a later time. “Alright, does that have an origin, possibly something relating to a religion or the liking?”

“No.” The Beast answered, shaking his head quickly. “As there is life and there is death, there will always be a guide.”

 _Okay, so it has something to deal with the afterlife?_ Ford made the note with ease. “Why do you appear so human-like, and as a young boy no less?”

This time the Beast had to pause as he thought over his answer. “I was once mortal.” Ford wanted so _badly_ to get more of an answer out of the young boy, but by the frown, he knew there was no chance of such a thing happening. Ford simply wrote what he could.

Ford contemplated his more scientific questions with a grain of salt. Perhaps he’d get more out of the young man if he weren’t asking such personal questions? Afterall, ~~Stanley~~ his brother always prided himself on being a people person, and he was a master at getting people to open up. Maybe he could use that. “Do you have any likes, any interests?”

It seemed his theory was correct as Ford watched the young boy’s face light up into a soft smile. “Yes... I… used to play the clarinet and read poetry.” He looked up at the sky at the thought, absently slowing his pace, a knowing smile on his face.

“ _In visions of the dark night_

_I have dreamed of joy departed—_

_But a waking dream of life and light_

_Hath left me broken-hearted.”_

“Edgar Allen Poe.” Ford responded, a smile of his own on his face, clearly amused. The Beast looked back at him and smiled a bit more openly now. The face that once housed a terrifying monster now replaced by that of a child. Ford was once again reminded of how child-like this so-called monster is. He held back a chuckle as he decided to say, “I guess the next time I come for a visit I’ll have to bring one of my books of poems.”

Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Instantly, a frown marred the child’s face. “You mustn't become lost so often. Those lost can sometimes never find their way home. You are lucky that I have found you twice now, but you would be wise to not test your luck a third time.”

Ford blinked in surprise at the statement, clearly not having expected the serious warning. He said nothing as he instead fidgeted, feeling the conversation almost immediately die off. But then again, he wasn’t quiet for long as he immediately followed this statement up with, “If you are a guide meant to take those lost home, then why are you scared of being incapable of such a task?”

“Sometimes, people cannot be guided home by the likes of even myself.” The Beast answered back cryptically. “You walk along a thin line, Stanford, a line that is difficult to see and properly lead home. The powers you deal with have laid their claim, and it is difficult to see your path. I suggest you be cautious over your future path you decide to take.”

Ford never gave him his name.

Blinking back his surprise, Ford tried to solve the strange statement until his thoughts were interrupted by the Beast again. “We’re here.” Lo and behold they were. The shack was now in clear view, and Ford did not know how he had not noticed sooner. 

This time, Ford managed to see the Beast turning to leave, lantern creaking with the shuffle. “Wait, one last question.” The Beast paused, and Ford took that as an invitation. “Why do you carry around that lamp?” He failed to see the young boy stiffen up. 

“I must keep it lit, else we all fall into the darkness.” Ford wanted so badly to ask what he meant by those words. So cryptic yet filled with hidden meaning behind each and every one. He opened his mouth, ready to ask for clarification. He breathed. He blinked.

The Beast once again was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

One would think that after the warning he’d gotten from someone named the _Beast_ to not get lost again he might have heeded their words. But then again Ford wasn’t just anyone and he was _stubborn._ He wanted - no - _needed_ answers! 

Which was why on this fine autumn afternoon, he decided to test fate, wrap a blindfold around his eyes, and stumble blindly into the Gravity Falls forest in hopes of getting _hopelessly_ lost. He was willing to bet that he’d come to regret this decision much later, but at the moment he could care less. His need for answers was leading him by the heart.

When he spent about an hour stumbling and wandering aimlessly he finally deemed himself perfectly lost and reached up to take off the blindfold, only to startle when seeing the boy standing right in front of him. Unlike prior times, it seemed that the boy’s face was skewed into something confused and annoyed. No. That wasn’t right. Annoyed was too strong a word. It was more like concern disguised under an air of disappointment. 

“I would say I’d be surprised by your appearance, but I suppose I’d be lying to myself at this point.” The Beast said as a way of greeting.

And despite it all, Stanford gave a breathy laugh, out of breath from his hours long walk through the unknown. “I suppose so, yes.” The bag he’d been lugging along was pulled off his shoulders and placed onto the ground unceremoniously. He might have winced at hearing something - most likely one of his pens - snap, but he was more focused on the present. With ease he opened up his bag and began sifting through the contents.

“Come along then, before the sun sets and it is impossible to-”

“If what I believe is to be true, then we’re in some type of pocket dimension yes?” Ford was too busy searching through his bag to notice the young monster freeze up. His back was to him, but the young boy did cast his eyes over his shoulders, eyes glowing _dangerously._ Ford leaned back up, taking out a small book from the bag at long last. Ford raised his eyes to the Beast, noting how the young boy seemed to be drawn taut, like a wolf cautiously watching its next meal. Ford might have felt nervous had it not been for his weeks of studying the paranormal and what other wonders it had to offer. “Am I correct?”

The Beast did not answer at first, instead watching Ford with cursory eyes. The eyes dripping millions of colors with a constant glow to them that _definitely_ made him appear inhuman. Seeing the being at this angle reminded Ford of some of the folktales he’d heard from around the country. Different folktales describing beasts of all sorts. Wendigos, skinwalkers, demons, all the liking. But the Beast was different. Unlike those monsters who strived off of pure instinct, the Beast’s eyes always held a level of knowledge to them. Like the young boy before him was so much older than how he appeared to be. Ford had long since accepted that creatures could come in all shapes and sizes, and had also accepted that the Beast was no doubt much older than how he held himself.

“...What is that?” The Beast asked instead, apparently not eager to answer Ford’s first question yet. Instead, his eyes on the solid black book clutched in Ford’s hands. The man unconsciously loosened his grip, not even realizing that he was holding it so tight in the first place.

Despite what lingering fear had been churning in the pit of his stomach, Ford forced a genuine smile. He lifted the book partially to give the Beast a better view of it. “I did say that I was going to bring a book of poems the next time I visited did I not?”

“...” The Beast said no words, but that cautious look to his eyes had since faded. Instead, he slowly turned. Slowly, and with great deliberation, he lifted one hand out from beneath his cloak. Ford might have startled at the black clawed appendage that was so unlike its fleshy counterpart had it not been for his curiosity overruling his possible fear. 

Ford stared at the arm that was _much_ too long to be considered proportional. Dark vines of bark wound round his arm, trailing further up his arm till it disappeared beneath his cloak. Black ichor dripped at some of the cracks within the wood, dripping down the length of the arm like a gauging wound. Fickle dry leaves, brown with death sprouting here and there. If Ford had any suspicions that this boy may be some subspecies of Spriggin then it was immediately ruled out. Spriggins thrived and bloomed, this boy, this so-called monster, was composed of nothing but _death._

“May I?” The Beast interrupted Ford’s thoughts, making the researcher’s focus snap back into place. His eyes lingered up towards the boy’s face, finding those pits of endless glowing pale colors swirling. He realized he was staring. His arm extended almost hesitantly, as if afraid to touch Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to realize what the boy was speaking in reference to. “Oh,” He blinked back fully into the present and immediately thrust the book out closer for the boy to take, “of course.” He took careful note of how the boy refused to touch him, only skimming his oak like claws over the outer edge of the book, keeping a decent amount of space between Ford’s flesh and his bark. 

Slowly, The Beast managed to wrap his fingers around the corner of the novel, taking it from Ford’s grasp with a surprisingly strong grasp. He lifted the book to his face, flipping open the blank black cover with surprisingly dexterous fingers. His eyes for a moment seemed to clarify, the glowing swirling forming into something that Ford might _vaguely_ describe as eyes. He watched the Beast’s eyes roam over the front page before looking to Ford in what he realized was childish curiosity. “Emily Dickinson?” 

“Yes, well, it seems that I misplaced my copy of Edgar Allen Poe poems.” Ford scratched the back of his neck in an almost sheepish gesture.

Then came a noise, the sound of the wind blowing harder, the trees trembling from the breeze. The branches creaked harshly, up and down, up and down. But through that there was a noise that cut through it all. A child’s laugh. Albeit it was quiet, almost a rasp, like it had not been used in so long. 

Then Ford realized it was coming from the Beast and he stared in awe. This creature, that was so clearly a monster in its own right now resembling something so _human_ . The more Ford stared at the monster, this _Beast_ , the more he could only see a child. 

The sound was quickly finished with, but a small smile was still present, hinting at the bell like sound that had just rang throughout the woods. The Beast peered fondly at the novel in its grasp before holding it back out for Ford to take. And an almost sad look in its eyes that seemed to have cleared even more. Ford spoke without thinking, “Keep it.”

To say that startled the Beast was the understatement of the century. The Beast blinked a few times, its smile slipping off its face rather quickly into a confused frown. Its fingers seemed to instinctively tighten around both the book and lantern. For a moment it even seemed like its lantern flickered. “I insist-”

“No, _I_ insist.” Ford proceeded, watching as the Beast continued to stare imploringly at him. Ford merely smiled, looking around the forest with all the skill that a friend had when pretending to mind their own business. “It must get awfully lonely out here.” The way he talked seemed like he was merely commenting on the weather. “I know that I’d be _horribly_ bored without something to pass the time. And I know that I’ve already memorized just about every poem in that book, so I suppose there is no use in keeping it around somewhere where it will only collect dust. I think it’d get much better use when in someone’s capable hands.”

The Beast still looked torn, gazing down at the book. The tension had left his body, but there was still a clear hesitance. “...Are you sure?” It was a childish question, and it only solidified Ford’s growing curiosity.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure.” Ford answered.

Still, the Beast was slow, carefully pulling the book beneath his cloak, almost making Ford wish he could see wherever it was going. But he kept his mouth shut when he heard the monster mutter something. Ford had to take a minute to realize just what the young monster had muttered.

“Thank you.”

* * *

After that day, the Beast hadn’t warned him of getting lost again, so Ford took that as an invitation. Every so often he’d wander around till he was satisfyingly lost and met with the Beast. It was about the fourth of these wanderings that he decided that he’d take a chess board with him. From his constant chats with the Beast, he found that he was a knowledgeable soul, who preferred to spend his days working his mind rather than working his physique. Not that there was much to change, Ford assumed.

So, here he sat, on a flattened log in the middle of the woods, with a strange cryptid apart from him playing a game of _chess_ . He’d never admit to it, but he might say that the Beast was a _surprisingly_ difficult opponent. Ford supposed that may be due to the knowledge he held that was far beyond this plane of existence, but he supposed he was no better, what with Bill in his head. 

But that wasn’t important, what was important was the fond smile on the Beast’s face as he appeared to be getting friendlier and friendlier with Ford. Right now was a quieter day as it seemed that Ford was taking more pleasure in simply spending time with a friend rather than interrogating a new discovery. With each day that passed, that original fear that had churned in his gut was dwindling.

And that was when it happened.

“Why do you keep visiting this place when I have warned you time and time again that you are treading a thin line?”

Ford looked up, his fingers hovering over a pawn. He noticed that the Beast was not looking at him, staring at the board with calculative eyes. Ford absently pondered if the monster even _meant_ to ask that question in the first place. 

Slowly, Ford moved the pawn, answering while doing so, “I suppose for some peace of mind?” It was _sort of_ true. Afterall, whenever he came to visit the Beast there was a strange emptiness to his mind. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling, as he recognized it as Bill more or less leaving for a bit. As much as he appreciated the dream demon’s aid in discovering the paranormal, it could be suffocating at times. But for some reason, everytime he met with the Beast, it was like Bill all but vanished from his senses.

Humming, the Beast slid a knight into place. He leaned back, continued to stare down at the pieces. “Peace of mind.” He repeated the words, as if testing them upon his tongue. He paused for a moment, watched as Ford reached out for a pawn again. “You mean escape from Bill Cipher, correct?”

Ford almost _choked_ . He jolted without really meaning to. His eyes flickered up again, finding that the monster was only staring down at the board with sharp eyes. Slowly, as if afraid that his hand might snap or break under the wrong move, Ford slid a pawn to the side, hearing the piece _scrape_ against the board. “That is one way of phrasing it, yes.”

The Beast was quiet, only giving his attention to the board with a carefully empty gaze.

“I’m surprised you know his name.”

“It is a name I am familiar with in this realm, although he is incapable of traversing here.”

_Is that why there is an emptiness in my head?_

Finally, the Beast’s eyes flickered up to Ford’s and Ford almost _shivered_ at the sharpness staring back at him. “You would do well to be cautious with him, and I suggest you do not mention my name within his presence, should you choose to continue meeting with him.”

“Is he scared of you?” Ford finally asked.

The way the Beast’s mouth curled made Ford _think_ it was a smile, but he _swore_ that there was something smug about the expression. The corners of his mouth grow just a _little_ too wide despite it being thin. “Let us just say that my domain is the one place where he will never come to by choice.” His eyes flickered back down to the board, and his smile turned into something gentler, “Unlike you, of course.”

The rest of their meeting was spent in relative silence. Ford continued to be polite, but he couldn’t get the words out of his head. The warning the Beast gave him. He hadn’t mentioned the Beast to Bill, but now he was curious on what would happen. But something told him that would be a _very_ bad idea. 

So instead, they spent their time in silence, playing the rest of the game. The Beast won with ease and it was only at the end of their game. Ford realized that he’d only been moving the pawns for some reason. He was normally better than that.

“Come now.” The Beast spoke gently, coming to his full height with his back creaking like a lumbering oak tree. He peered towards Ford with calm eyes, lantern clutched tight in his hands just as always. Ford followed in silence, not having any questions to say today.

For some reason the Beast didn’t like that.

“Wirt.”

The sudden statement took Ford by surprise, his eyes blinking in confusion. He peered at the young monster that was staring forward with a steady gaze. There was the _faintest_ smile on his face that Ford recognized as fondness. Like he was thinking back on a happy memory long since past.

_Ford held that smile when thinking about the past with his twin sometimes._

“Pardon?”

“Wirt.” The boy reiterated. Staring forward with a calm gaze. “It was my mortal name.” 

_Oh._

Ford turned, his momentary fear put aside by something more curious.

 ~~The Beast~~ Wirt was already gone. 

* * *

_Later, when Ford scoured all sources he could find that mentioned the name Wirt he would come across an old article written at least ten years before about a pair of young boys. One apparently stuck in a coma and another that went missing. He would stare at the article for hours that night, rapidly scratching out the title of “_ **_The Beast_ ** _” from his journal, only to replace it with “_ **_Wirt_ ** **_McLoughlin_ ** _” in invisible ink._

_And even later, he would tape a picture of the young missing boy into the journal, right beside the crudely drawn image of the boy-turned-monster._

* * *

Ford didn’t visit again. But Wirt already knew that he wouldn’t. At least... he wouldn’t visit again for a _long_ time.

* * *

“Mabel! I told you that we were supposed to turn at that tree we saw a mile back!” 

“Well I thought we’d have much more of an adventure if we followed that rabbit!”

“Okay, first of all, it was _clearly_ a jackalope, not a rabbit; and second of all, now we’re completely lost!”

“C’mon!” Mabel teased with a playful smile on her face. She strut forward with all the confidence of a runway model making their first debut on the stage. This, of course, was utterly ruined when her foot caught on a particularly lose _something_ and her foot went sliding out from beneath her. She yelped in startlement as she collided with the ground rather roughly.

“Mabel!” Her twin shouted, Dipper running forward worriedly and sliding down beside her after watching Mabel collapse. He quickly helped his twin up, relieved to find that she wasn’t that scraped up. “You alright?”

“I’m fine…” Mabel rubbed at her temple, searching for whatever rock might have caused her momentary tumble only to pause at seeing something that was _definitely_ not a rock lying a few feet away. She got up with relative ease, dusting herself off as she marched forward towards the object in question, ignoring her brother’s protests the whole time. “Dipper look at this…” She reached down to pick up whatever had caused her fall.

Curious, Dipper got up, stepping forward to look at whatever had made his sister go quiet and stare in disbelief. He blinked in surprise when recognizing it to be a black book of some kind. There was moss covering the outside, along with vines carefully crawling up the outside. The pages were yellowed with age, and when they opened the front up to reveal the title, it was revealed to also be water-stained, left to dry one too many times if the flimsy pages and bleary inked words were anything to go by at least.

“Emily Dickinson?” Dipper asked out loud when seeing the text

“Didn’t we study her in school or something?” Mabel asked, face scrunching up in confusion.

“Oh, I see you found my book.”

Freezing up, the twins slowly twisted themselves around to regard the voice’s owner. They stared at the monster that was looking down at them with too large eyes that were filled with an impossible amount of colors. A gentle kind smile split across his lips, his face glowing due to the faint lantern’s light clutched tight in his hand.

“I see that you’re lost.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...was it any good?  
> Asking for a friend of course...
> 
> Also (hi I’m editing this in later) I know this is a bit weird, but I’m actually getting a TikTok specifically for this kinda stuff. I’m fairly bad at blogging but I think videos would better suit me in general. My account is yourweeklyapple and I’ll be posting little silly things on there that range from fanfic ideas, anime/cartoons/movie stuff, other little things I know it’s a bit strange, but I thought it’d be nice! So if any of y’all are interested in some stuff like that check me out on there (I’m still fairly new so I don’t have a lot posted yet but hopefully that will change with time)


End file.
